


pink

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [35]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, High School Reunion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: There’s an edge to his voice now, a silken thread wound tight. The sound of it still feels like a net woven fine round Atsumu’s heart, and he knows Osamu feels this too, feels it in ways that Atsumu cannot even begin to imagine.Atsumu at their high school reunion with a glass of champagne.





	pink

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 5: Clue | [originally posted here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24808.html?thread=15404776#cmt15404776)

Ever the consummate host, it is Kita, of course, who comes over with a champagne flute for Atsumu, never mind that they’re in a fancy ballroom and there are supposed to be butlers for this kind of thing.

When Atsumu points that out, Kita only smiles and looks out at the crowd.

“It’s easier for me, this way,” is his cryptic answer, his voice rising just above the chatter for Atsumu to hear as he hangs back for a while, resting one elbow on the cocktail table, and Atsumu thinks he understands. This is Kita’s element, has always been: watching from the sidelines, being there, like breathing, where he is needed, and then slipping out of sight again. It’s not that he shuns the limelight. It’s simply, Atsumu’s learned, that he works better out of it. Like someone else he knows.

Atsumu takes a sip from the glass in his hand. He’s no connoisseur, but this champagne tastes good. Not that he expected any less from Kita’s family hotel.

“Don’t you want to go and talk to the others?” he asks archly, leaning closer.

Kita, as he’d known he would, sees the bait where Atsumu lays it with a brazen laziness.

“You mean, don’t I want to go and talk to Osamu.”

“Well, _don’t_ you?”

Kita eyes him with a flat stare. “We’ve talked.”

“Oh, please. _When?_ ”

“Some time ago.”

“ _Years_ ago,” Atsumu corrects, and knocks back the rest of his champagne in one swig. The fizz tickles his tongue and bubbles pink in the back of his throat. It’s not how he’s supposed to drink this, probably, he thinks, but some proprieties can be damned, if he’s gone this far putting his foot in his mouth.

“We decided not to try, then. I think that was enough,” Kita says. There’s an edge to his voice now, a silken thread wound tight. The sound of it still feels like a net woven fine round Atsumu’s heart, and he knows Osamu feels this too, feels it in ways that Atsumu cannot even begin to imagine.

Atsumu slides round the table, nudges Kita in the ribs. He would not have dared to do this, when they were younger; there were many things they had not dared, Kita as guilty as any of them. They can be equally culpable, now that they are older.

“Samu thinks so too. _I_ think you’re both wrong.”

“And how would you know?” asks Kita. The look he shoots Atsumu is brittle.

It is the look of someone on the verge of breaking. Atsumu smiles, twirls one finger round the lip of his empty champagne flute, lets the hum fill the air between them and crack at its crescendo.

“Call it brotherly instinct,” he says at last, and glances across the room at Osamu.

He knows Kita will follow his gaze, and he knows, too, that Osamu will be looking.


End file.
